


fleurs

by justadreamfox



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, i don't know man it's what i do, jerjean - Freeform, soft cupcake fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23815609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justadreamfox/pseuds/justadreamfox
Summary: Jean has a bad day and Jeremy fixes it because he is a ball of sunshine.
Relationships: Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	fleurs

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this lovely art by [nerdzeword](https://nerdzewordart.tumblr.com/post/614717729692368896/fleurs/)

Jean woke suddenly, like he was dropping down abruptly into his body. He was frozen, feeling angry, unwanted hands on his body, knives crawling on his skin, and cruel phantom laughter chasing him out of the nightmare.

He drew in a gasping breath and turned his head, seeking out the glow of the Trojan horse nightlight Jeremy had installed on his night stand. The little creature glowed gold, casting light across the room onto Jeremy’s face where he slept, those wild curls pressed against his pillow, his breathing deep and even.

Jean counted his breath slowly, methodically trying to match it with Jeremy’s. Usually it helped, but just now, in this shadowy morning, it wasn’t enough. Jean sighed and dragged himself out of the bed.

Today was going to be a bad day.

As much as Jean tried to hide it, it was clear that Jeremy noticed his mood. His boyfriend watched him carefully at breakfast, his warm coffee-colored eyes seeking out Jean’s across the table as Laila and Alverez indulged in a spirited, good-natured argument with Barnes and Michelle about the merits of cross-training with yoga. Jean ignored him, focusing on his oatmeal and dried fruit and pretending he didn’t feel Jeremy’s gaze heavy on him.

Jean didn’t want to avoid his boyfriend, but he also didn’t know how to ask for comfort. On bad days he closed off - his body defaulting to survival mode whether he willed it or not. He didn’t want to shut down, but on bad days - on bad days he didn’t have a choice.

On bad days, classes were torture. He watched the USC students dance around him through a fog, their iced lattes in hand, chatting about reality television and playing frisbee and laughing and living effortlessly.

Practice was worse though, because on bad days exy just meant pain, exy just meant the Nest, exy just meant Riko - and Jean couldn’t crawl out of the fog. He played rougher, harder, the Raven in him rising to the surface, the choking panic just below it. It was during practice that Jean imploded. Mindlessly he slammed Barnes against the wall, executing a sweep that threw the dealer onto his back.

Through the fog he heard the yelling, through the fog he stared down at Barnes - and then Jean was struggling to remember where he was, and he knew to look for the little glowing horse but it wasn’t there and -

Jean gasped a breath, because suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, fingers curled in his facemask as he was pulled forward and those warm brown eyes were staring into his and it was Jeremy - it was Jeremy, and he was here, not at the Nest - and the shouts around him came roaring into his ears as he gasped out another breath and sagged against his boyfriend.

“It’s okay babe, it’s okay, I’ve got you, it’s okay,” Jeremy’s voice was a low, soft litany, and Jean closed his eyes and let it wash over him. Vaguely he realized the team around them had quieted down. Vaguely he heard someone pull Barnes off the court floor. He shuddered through a sigh and opened his eyes.

“Get me out of here?” Jean asked softly, and belatedly Jean realized he couldn’t - shouldn’t - ask for such a thing.

Jeremy’s eyes widened, but he just squeezed Jean’s shoulder and let go of his facemask to turn to Alvarez and point - “You’re in charge vice-captain, redistribute and finish the scrimmage,” - and then he led Jean off the court by his wrist.

Outside of the inner court Rhemann nodded at whatever Jeremy leaned forward to say, and then they were out of their gear, showered, and tucked into Jeremy’s bright blue Volvo 240 speeding down the highway.

Jeremy didn’t ask, and Jean felt ashamed to realize that he didn’t have to. This wasn’t Jean’s first bad day...and this probably wouldn’t be his last. Gazing out the window, Jean thought that he didn’t deserve him, but he was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for the glowing ball of California sunshine that was Jeremy Knox.

After about twenty minutes on the highway Jeremy exited, and a left turn and then another brought them to the entrance of a small state park. The parking lot was deserted.

Jean followed Jeremy numbly down the hiking path, focused on avoiding roots and puddles here and there. The forest was sleepy in the late afternoon light, and somehow Jean realized he already felt calmer. There was moss growing along the base of trees, ferns cropping up between them. They crossed a stream, hopping from rock to rock, and Jeremy turned back to Jean with a smile as he led him off the main path, ducking under a few branches and stomping through underbrush until they broke free into a clearing.

Jean eyed Jeremy with a question in his grey eyes, and Jeremy shrugged, smiling still. “This is where I go when I need to stop thinking for a while.”

Jean nodded but he felt his brow wrinkle; he didn’t know what it felt like to stop thinking.

The meadow was secluded and small - Jean wasn’t even sure he would call it a meadow, more like a small clearing. Bees buzzed about merrily, hopping from clover to daisy to violet, drunk on pollen and sunlight. The trees around them were solemn, watchful. Jeremy grabbed his hand and pulled him after him to the center of the clearing before dragging him down to settle in a mess of daisies and buttercups.

There were birds - so many birds - chirping and whirring away, whistling and squabbling. A couple of squirrels ran up one of the trees, chattering cheekily and running circles around the trunk. Jean’s mouth dropped open for a moment before he caught himself, snapped his mouth closed, looked at Jeremy warily, catching his boyfriend gazing intently back at him.

“How is this even a place?” Jean asked, and he sounded grumpy, but he didn’t feel grumpy - he was just overwhelmed. He wasn’t sure when he had been in nature before, if ever, and it was seeping into him, soothing him, holding him, and he was uncomfortable and comfortable all at the same time and it was a lot.

Jeremy chuckled, and when Jean looked back at him, those blond curls framing his face lit up in dappled sunlight and Jeremy’s warm brown eyes were sparkling; Jean was pleasantly disoriented as if he had been dropped into the most delirious dream, and suddenly his nightmares seemed far, far away. There was no exy, no Riko, no pain - there was just birdsong and bees and flowers and trees.

“Here,” Jeremy gestured, “turn around - put your back to me.”

And because it was Jeremy asking, Jean did, crossing his legs and sitting in front of him. He heard his boyfriend settling closer behind him, and then Jeremy’s strong, competent hands were on his shoulders, his neck, his fingers running through his hair, pulling the strands together, and Jean realized he was plaiting his long hair together into what felt like a braid.

“Jeremy?” he asked softly, confused but not complaining.

“Hush, I’ve got you, remember?” Jeremy murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss just below Jean’s ear.

Jean shivered pleasantly from the touch and then stilled, trusting this man who had taken him in, who had been steady and patient and loving and kind - teaching him what those things meant. Jean was still learning, and it was a better lesson than he was ever taught at the Nest.

So he stilled, the lazy bumblebees bumbling closer, the birdsong growing in sweet cacophony, as Jeremy’s fingers pulled through his hair, tucking pieces and strands together into the braid.

“It’s a French braid, get it?” Jeremy laughed sweetly.

Jean blushed, he could feel it creeping up to his ears. “How do you even know how to do that?”

“Younger sisters - two of them,” Jean could hear the affection in Jeremy’s voice as he tugged gently on the end of the braid. “Stay still, I’m not done yet.”

Jeremy leaned forward next to him, his solid chest pressing into Jean’s shoulder as he plucked a couple of the daisies and then lifted up to his knees and began tucking the stems into Jean’s hair.

He’d gotten quite a few in, along with a couple of buttercups before Jean gathered the wherewithal to protest. “What are you doing?” he asked incredulously, turning over his shoulder to glare, but Jeremy just pushed against Jean’s cheek gently, turning him forward again.

“Protecting you of course,” Jeremy murmured softly against Jean’s ear.

Jean stifled a second shiver. “What?” he asked, confused.

“Protecting you,” Jeremy asserted, “from the Faeries. They won’t tote you away if we weave flowers in your hair.”

“Jeremy,” he huffed, exasperated, and he turned fully around this time, facing him. Jeremy fell back on his heels, grinning, and Jean paused to watch him as he tilted back farther, sprawling onto his elbows, this glorious creature that was his boyfriend.

“And what’s to protect you I wonder?” Jean asked softly, as he crawled forward, one arm bracing him over Jeremy as he plucked a handful of daisies and clover and held them overhead menacingly.

“Jean,” Jeremy said warningly.

“Jean,” Jean mocked oh so sweetly, and then he tossed the flowers up into the air.

The blooms rained down on both of them, and Jeremy’s mouth dropped open in shock before he threw back his head and laughed. Jean grinned - he grinned - and then Jeremy pressed up against him, pushing him over onto his back, following the movement to drape himself half across Jean’s chest. His eyes flickered down to Jean’s lips, and Jean’s breath hitched. There was a daisy caught in a curl just above Jeremy’s left ear and a clover blossom peeking out above his right eye, and as Jeremy gazed down at him, Jean was momentarily distracted by his boyfriend’s ridiculously long eyelashes.

Jean sighed softly, and Jeremy smiled gently, and then lips were on lips, and this was safe and this was home and this was real.

It was a bad day that was no longer bad, it was just this: Jean holding hands with Jeremy, a braid adorned with wildflowers, a gentle press of lips, and a secret clearing full of birds and bees and sunlight.


End file.
